


Under The Influence

by Kaser



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Succubi & Incubi, Underage Drinking, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaser/pseuds/Kaser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When bodies start piling up in Beacon Hills the pack has to take on a succubus. When things go wrong Stiles finds himself banned from the pack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hormones

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set directly after season 2. It ignores the existence of the alpha pack but follows all other elements of canon. This means Boyd and Erica ran away safely and are no longer with the pack.

            Stiles couldn’t say he was surprised when people started turning up dead again. They’d had about a month of blissful peace after settling things with the kanima. School had gotten out and Scott and Stiles had just started to settle into their summer bachelor bros routine when the first body had been found. A young man, 19, found naked in his dorm room, cause of death unknown. Scott made his nervous puppy face but Stiles brushed the incident off; people died, it happened.

            The second body came a few days later. This one was a woman, 25, naked in her apartment, cause of death unknown. The police suspected the deaths were linked. Stiles began to think they had a problem. Scott seemed to agree if his less than subtle glances in Stiles’ direction were any indication.

            The third body was different. Male, 20, found in a bathroom stall in a bar with his pants down, cause of death unknown. The police didn’t automatically link it with the first two, but Stiles did. So did Scott.

            “We need to talk to Derek,” he announced with a huff.

            “Why?” Stiles asked incredulously.

            “Because he might know something.”

            “Great, then he can handle it! Or my dad can, since it’s his job.”

            “Your dad can’t handle it if it’s…” Scott started to protest.

            “Dude! Not everything is werewolves and magic. It’s like, drugs or something; no big deal,” Stiles interjected.

            “Okay, if you say so,” Scott conceded.

            Stiles wasn’t sure he believed what he was saying. There was a thought nagging at the back of his mind telling him this was beyond his father’s purview. The fact was he was half avoiding Derek because his hopes for Lydia were basically destroyed and it left a lot of room to pine for sexy alpha werewolves. On top of that he still felt more than a little useless and he wasn’t eager to prove it in yet another supernatural showdown. When the fourth body showed up – male, 22, half naked in the alley of a strip club, cause of death unknown – Stiles knew it was time to man up.

            They pulled up in front of the Hale house and Stiles killed the engine. Scott jumped out immediately but Stiles hesitated. Derek and Peter had gone back to their ruin of a home after Chris had settled into an uneasy truce. There were subtle changes now, signs that the wolves were bringing life back into the place, but it was still a mess. Stiles slid out of the jeep. They trudged up to the door in silence and Scott reached out for the handle. Stiles grabbed his arm and wrenched it back.

            “Dude, it’s their house!” Stiles chastised.

            “So?” Scott replied, looking genuinely confused. Stiles shot him a dirty look and knocked. He fidgeted anxiously as they waited and Scott stared at him as if knocking was a foreign concept. It was Peter that answered.

            “Scott, Stiles, come in,” he said personably. Scott stepped past him quickly but Stiles was more hesitant, keeping an eye on Peter as he moved inside. Even if Peter had been helpful saving Jackson he still made Stiles uneasy.

            “What are you doing?” Scott asked Derek incrdulously once they were all inside. From what Stiles could see he was tearing up the floorboards and looking really good in a dirty tank top.

            “I convinced him to renovate,” Peter said with a smile. That didn’t really surprise Stiles but it seemed to baffle Scott.

            “What do you want?” Derek said roughly.

            “Something’s killing people,” Scott said, it sounded almost like an accusation.

            “How is that my problem?” Derek asked, prying up a piece of floor.

            “Because,” Scott sputtered, there really wasn’t a reason. “You’re the alpha!”

            “I’m _an_ alpha,” Derek said bitterly, ripping up a floorboard like it had personally tried to kill him. “Which means I protect my pack, not the entire town. There’s a sheriff for that.”

            “This is really becoming a dangerous place to live, maybe we should just move,” Peter said, a hint of teasing in his voice.

            “We’re not moving,” Derek growled.

            “Look, my dad can’t handle this one, okay? So can you just…” Stiles said in an attempt to keep the conversation on course. Derek stood up, to look more intimidating, Stiles assumed.

            “No, I can’t. This isn’t my problem or my pack’s. You’re on your own.” Stiles and Peter rolled their eyes in unison; they both knew Derek was being stubborn because Scott wasn’t pack.

            “Fine, but can you at least help us figure out what it is? Since you know more about this stuff?” Scott asked angrily.

            “It’s a succubus,” Stiles said flatly. “Or an incubus. Apparently they’re the same monster.” Scott looked at him, obviously confused. “It’s not that hard to work out, man. Four victims, in varying states of undress, all having recently done the deed before mysteriously dying? Definitely a succubus.” Peter smiled approvingly.

            “Then why are you here?” Derek asked, agitated.

            “Because I need more than just Scott to help me find and kill it. I could ask the Argents but it seems to go for younger game and I’m not sure they can handle it. I also need some help with weakening it,” Stiles answered.

            “Weakening it?” Derek asked mockingly, as if weakening a foe wasn’t an issue.

            “Yeah, weakening it. I’ve done my homework and it turns out succubi are stronger than werewolves. Orgasms are powerful, who knew?” Scott snorted. Derek didn’t look amused. Stiles sighed. “Please just help us?”

            “No.”

            “We need you!” Scott yelled, suddenly becoming all business and heroism. “You can’t just ignore what’s happening!”

            “Yes, I can,” Derek said calmly. “You don’t want me as your alpha, that’s fine. But don’t come running to me every time you and your friends have a problem. You’re an omega Scott, get used to it.”

            “Fine!” Scott barked before storming from the house. Stiles sighed and slumped his shoulders.

            “Well, good luck with the renovations,” he said dryly and headed after Scott.

            “Can you believe that?” Scott said incredulously as they pulled away from the house.

            “He’s got a point Scott,” Stiles replied, exasperated.

            “You agree with him?” Scott demanded.

            “You chose to not be part of his pack. Why should he put their lives on the line for you? And if you’re going to ask him for help anyway, why not join him?”

            “It isn’t for me; it’s for everyone in Beacon Hills. It could kill his pack too you know,” Scott explained.

            “Actually it probably won’t bother with them if they don’t attack first. Succubi sort of compel victims into some kind of super-arousal but it doesn’t work as well on werewolves. I guess it has something to do with them belonging to their alpha; they're already pseudo-compelled so the succubus’s compulsion doesn’t work. It’s stronger than any one of them but it isn’t worth taking on a whole pack.”

            “So what do we do now?”

            “I don’t know,” Stiles sighed, running a hand across his head in frustration.

            Body number five was a young man, 16, in his car. Stiles and Scott had both shared classes with him. Stiles started to see a pattern in the locations; he had a pretty good guess where the next victim would meet their doom. He was more than a little relieved when Derek showed up in his bedroom the next evening.

            “How do you weaken it?” Derek asked, getting right to business.

            “I thought you weren’t helping?” Stiles asked. He didn’t want to push the issue but he needed to know he could count on Derek when the time came.

            “Scott joined my pack, I’m helping now. Besides, I don’t like having that thing on my territory.” Stiles was surprised to hear about Scott but grateful. Not only was Derek going to help, but if Scott was pack Stiles figured he was too.

            “Right, so… You weaken a succubus by forcing it to wear a symbol of true love. Er… romantic love, not family or friends,” Stiles explained.

            “We have to make it wear something?” Derek asked as if it was absurd.

            “Yeah. I figured things we could put on strings, that way we can slip it over the succubus’s head.” He moved to snatch something out of his desk drawer and dangled it before Derek. “Like this.” Derek surveyed the item. It was a small diamond engagement ring and wedding band soldered together with a long loop of string tied through it.

            “A ring?” Derek asked quietly as if sensing its importance.

            “My mom’s,” Stiles answered, pushing it into his pocket. “Trouble is I only have one. I can’t get my dad’s without him asking a lot of questions; he still wears it. I thought maybe the pack might have something. We’ll have to spread out in the club so it’s better to have as many as we can.” Derek nodded.

            “Come to the house tomorrow,” he said firmly before slipping out the window.

            Stiles was a little surprised to see Jackson’s truck parked between the Camaro and Scott’s car. He’d pegged Jackson as another stubborn omega. Then again, Jackson had been through a lot and a pack was the kind of belonging he seemed to crave. This time Isaac answered when Stiles knocked. Everyone eyed Stiles as he came in, either because he was the last to arrive or because he was wearing the sexiest clothes he owned. For Stiles sexy meant jeans that were a little too tight and a Batman tee that was a little too small. He’d foregone the extra layer figuring he didn’t have the power to make either flannel or a hoodie look hot.

            “What are you wearing?” Peter asked as if personally offended.

            “What? This is what I always wear when I go gay clubbing,” Stiles replied nonchalantly as if everyone there couldn’t smell his embarrassment. Jackson chuckled like the asshole he was. “So where are we with the love tokens situation?” Stiles asked Derek, attempting to bring the focus elsewhere.

            “I got my mom’s wedding rings,” Scott offered. Stiles fought the urge to face-palm.

            “Dude, your parents got divorced because your dad’s a jerk. I don’t think it was true love. Anyone else?” Isaac shrugged. Jackson’s jaw twitched and he thrust something from his pocket at Stiles. It was his house key, once more dangling from the long chain Lydia usually wore around her neck. Stiles nodded. “Good,” he said. He wanted to tease Jackson but he knew he couldn’t, not about that. He looked at Derek. There was a soft exposed air to Derek’s expression as he held out his hand. Rings, discolored and slightly misshapen from the fire that had killed their owners. Derek’s mother had soldered her rings together just like Stiles’. The engagement ring was moonstone but Stiles barely recognized it due to the vicious crack and cloudy ashen coloring. He swallowed hard and resisted the urge to touch them. He nodded and pulled two lengths of string from his pocket. Derek looped the through the rings and hesitated before handing his father’s to Isaac.

            “Looks like we’ll be short one then,” Stiles said after a moment.

            “You mean two,” Isaac corrected, nodding toward Peter. Stiles looked him over.

            “Actually, Sassy Wolf is sitting this one out,” Stiles replied. Peter gave him a mildly curious look and Derek glared at him as if to say, ‘I’m the alpha, I give the orders’. “Look, he’s older than the victims and I need him to run interference with Danny.”

            “Danny?” Jackson asked.

            “Yeah, I’m pretty sure the succubus will be prowling Jungle next. This isn’t going to work if you’re too busy worrying about your best friend or he accidently lets the thing know a bunch of straight guys are patrolling the gay club.”

            “Makes sense,” Derek said calmly.

            “I don’t think your uncle is Danny’s type,” Jackson said tightly.

            “He’s not mine either but I can work around it,” Peter said with a wry smile.

            “That’s the spirit,” Stiles said, gesturing at Peter as if to make an example. “So we blend in, keep an eye out for the succubus, keep an eye on each other, and hope for the best. Shall we?” Nobody seemed thrilled about the plan but they all filed out to the cars.

            It didn’t go well at the club. Isaac, Jackson, and Stiles blended into the crowd seamlessly, Isaac and Jackson grinding against men as if they did it all the time and Stiles discovering that despite his best efforts he was not attractive to gay guys. But Derek and Scott were obviously uncomfortable. Scott covered by saying he had been dragged along by a friend and wasn’t a big clubber. Derek mostly just growled when people got close but Peter, having not spotted Danny, smoothed things over pretty well on that end (perhaps with a bit too much glee). They didn’t find the succubus (or in this case incubus), but nobody died either so they agreed to try again the next night.

            The second night felt more right to Stiles. The incubus was killing every three-ish days and they were right on schedule. He decided to take a small risk which would either lure the monster in or scare it away. He carefully secured the string to a counterbalance and positioned it so that his mother’s ring dangled out of his pocket but wouldn’t fall out. He didn’t tell anyone he was playing bait; he knew they’d try to stop him.

            Stiles actually had a bit more luck on the dance floor the second night. He’d had two separate guys grinding against him at various points before they were lured away by persons more desirable. He was back to flying solo and losing himself in the hard bass when guy number three’s hands found the exposed skin between his tight jeans and tiny shirt and began grinding roughly against Stiles’ ass. The feeling was electric and a heat started building beneath Stiles’ skin. He felt his partner’s lips press against his neck and fingers slide under his shirt a little.

            “Why don’t we go somewhere more private, Hero,” the man whispered in Stiles’ ear, and Stiles knew his plan had worked.

            “You’re the incubus,” he whimpered as a steady hand slid around to the small of his back and led him toward the rear exit. Stiles struggled to slow his pace even as he realized he was already under the incubus’s compulsion.

            “I don’t know how you know about me but you’re awful foolish to try to fight me on your own,” the incubus purred into his ear. It sent a shiver down Stiles’ spine and he had to fight hard to stop himself from jumping him right there.

            “You’d be surprised what I can do,” he replied with false bravado.

            “Oh, I’m already surprised,” the incubus said, pushing open the door to the alley. “Normally my prey is much less verbal by now. You’re not even touching me; for someone like you, who’s so woefully inexperienced, that takes a great strength of will.”

            “Glad to impress,” Stiles moaned as the incubus pressed him against the wall.

            “I’m so impressed I’m going to take my time with you,” the incubus whispered against his lips. Stiles poured all of his focus into keeping himself pressed against the wall and not engaging; his whole body screamed for him to do the opposite. It became much more difficult when the incubus began kissing him and simultaneously unfastening his jeans. He managed to mostly keep a semblance of control, but he couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth and giving access to the incubus’s probing tongue. He moaned when he felt a hand slide down the grip his straining erection. When the incubus pulled back and fell to his knees he bit his tongue to keep from repeating the sound.

            The incubus started licking and sucking him in the most frustratingly teasing way Stiles imagined was possible. He brought him right to the edge and kept him there. Stiles’ mind was screaming ‘ _Derek_ ’ but he knew if he opened his mouth something more lurid would come out. It seemed to go on forever, although it may have just been that Stiles needed it to finish more quickly, and he wondered where the pack was. Eventually the incubus pulled his head back to look up at Stiles.

            “Are you ready for me to finish?” the incubus asked, teasing and seductive. Stiles tried to say ‘no’ but what came out was a desperate, guttural moan.

            That’s when Derek appeared, seeming to materialize from thin air, and slipped the string necklace over the incubus’s head. He let out a primal roar that echoed in Stiles’ spine as the incubus turned to meet him. The incubus seemed to be holding his own against Derek and Stiles had a sickening moment where he thought the rings may not have worked. Somehow he managed to wrangle his _extremely_ tight pants back over his hips and zip up without maiming himself and when he looked up Derek and Isaac were standing over the bloody corpse of the incubus.

            Stiles took a few awkward steps forward. He assumed that with the incubus dead he would be freed from its influence, he’d just need to handle his raging erection later on. When his arm brushed Derek’s he realized just how wrong he was. The sudden force of his desire was like a punch to the gut and his knees buckled, sending him crashing down on all four beside the incubus. He saw the rings almost hanging in the blood pooling beneath the body and he snatched them away to protect them and make sure Derek got them back.

            Derek grabbed Stiles’ arm to pull him up and then his brain was gone. He was all over Derek, one arm around his neck, the other hand sliding under his shirt, hips thrusting desperately against his thigh. He kissed Derek before the werewolf could react, taking him by surprise, and then Derek pushed him roughly away. Stiles slammed against the wall painfully but he was back on Derek almost immediately. The whole pack was stumbling into the alley, Peter with an amused smirk and the rest looking scandalized. Stiles would have hated them all right then if he’d had the capacity to notice them.

            Derek tossed his car keys to Isaac before spinning Stiles around and pinning his arms tightly to his sides. He was essentially hugging Stiles from behind and Stiles leaned into it and rocked his hips back.

            “Get out of here,” Derek growled at the rest of the pack.

            “But…” Scott began to protest.

            “Do you want to deal with him like this?” Derek asked roughly. Scott shook his head, in utter horror at the thought of his best friend dry humping him. “Then go! I’ll get him home.” Scott whimpered but he and the others began to head off. Peter hesitated at the end of the alley.

            “I wouldn’t leave him alone like that, who knows who else he might find,” he said with a taunting smile before disappearing around the corner. Derek attempted to take a step, realized it wouldn’t work, and scooped Stiles up. Carrying Stiles made it much more difficult to restrain him and he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around Derek and start lavishing attention on his neck.

            When they reached the jeep Derek dropped Stiles on his feet and awkwardly reached into his pocket for the keys. He shoved Stiles in on the passenger side, pinned his arms above his head, and pulled the seatbelt all the way out to engage the safety lock. When he felt Stiles was as pinned in place as he could get he closed the door and moved to the other side to drive. Stiles struggled against the seatbelt once Derek was seated behind the wheel, but was held firmly in place. He whimpered, threw his head back, and began rubbing his crotch without shame and seemingly to no effect. Derek focused on driving and tried not to look at the boy masturbating beside him.

            When they pulled into the driveway Derek was relieved to find the Sheriff wasn’t home. He’d have to carry Stiles to his bedroom which meant the front door and stairs and Stiles moaning loudly. Even when he got Stiles into the room Derek knew he had to stay; Peter was right, Stiles couldn’t be left alone in his condition. He seriously considered tying Stiles up and leaving him anyway but he didn’t have anything to use as rope and the thought of tying up the horny teenager made him uncomfortable. Besides, Stiles might escape. He settled for spooning on the small bed, pinning Stiles’ arms to his chest, and attempting to limit his ability to thrust backward by slinging a leg tightly over both of Stiles’.

            “Derek,” Stiles moaned when he found he could barely move. “Derek please. I need you Derek.”

            “No you don’t. You need sleep,” Derek replied with irritation.

            “Need you. Need you to touch me. God, Derek _please_. It hurts, I need it so bad. Please, please, Derek.” Stiles managed to rock his hips back once. Derek made a sound halfway between an angry sigh and a growl, took both of Stiles’ wrists in one hand, and reached down to his crotch with the other. Stiles whimpered and bucked into Derek’s hand. “Take them off,” he begged. “Derek please, too tight.”

            “You have got to be kidding.” He started unfastening the jeans anyway. He had trouble getting them off with one hand but he wasn’t going to let Stiles up now.

            “Need your skin against mine,” Stiles moaned once his pants had been removed and Derek was settled behind him once more. Derek closed his eyes, buried his face against Stiles’ shoulder, and pulled out Stiles cock.

            Derek had barely gripped him when Stiles came the first time but either because he was a teenager or because he was under the influence of the incubus, Stiles was hard again right away. Derek’s hand didn’t stop moving. He jerked Stiles off several more times, panting into his shoulder, and occasionally thrusting against him. Each time Stiles came his refractory period was a little longer. When Stiles was finally spent he fell asleep.


	2. Alcohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is banished from the pack. He makes a new friend.

            When Stiles woke up the next morning he was uncomfortable, messy, and alone. He shivered, groaned, and pushed himself out of bed. He needed to wash his sheets but he decided to shower first. If his dad came home and saw his bed in that state it wouldn’t be the most embarrassing part of the whole thing and he felt he’d be better equipped to deal with everything once he’d washed the previous night off of his skin. He grabbed some comfy, loose fitting clothes and headed down the hall.

            Stiles took stock of what had happened as he stood under the hot spray. In one night he’d received his first kiss, first blowjob, and first hand-job. He hadn’t been in control of himself and hadn’t really wanted any of it, not like that. He wasn’t okay. He didn’t blame Derek; Derek had done what was necessary. But that was another problem. He’d behaved in the most embarrassing, immature way in front of his crush and alpha, not to mention what he’d done in front of the rest of the pack. On top of all that Derek had enjoyed it. At least he seemed to be into it by the way he reacted. But Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek was reacting to him or to the sexual situation. Stiles beat his forehead against the wall a few times, worst night ever.

            After his shower Stiles did the laundry. He was glad his dad still wasn’t home and he wouldn’t have to try to explain the situation. He checked his phone and texted Scott, ‘ _I’m ok_ ’. He ate some food, though less than usual. He put clean sheets on his bed. He tidied his room. He stalled. Eventually he shoved Mama Hale’s rings in his pocket, grabbed his keys from where Derek had left them on the desk, and drove out to the Hale house.

            Stiles was surprised to see the array of vehicles that indicated the whole pack was at the house. He checked his phone again to make sure he hadn’t missed a call or text informing him they were meeting; there was nothing. He knocked on the front door. He stood there for a long time waiting. He knocked again. This time Derek wrenched the door open.

            “What do you want Stiles?” he asked, obviously annoyed. Stiles hesitated.

            “I uh… wanted to talk to you… about last night,” he said quietly, as if the werewolves assembled behind Derek couldn’t hear him anyway.

            “I’m busy,” Derek said roughly.

            “I can wait?”

            “Go home Stiles,” Derek ordered.

            “Look man, can I just come in? I mean everyone else is here so I…”

            “Stiles,” Derek cut him off. “This is a pack meeting, and you’re not pack.” Then he shut the door. Stiles stood there a moment, waiting for someone else to let him in, straining to hear someone argue that he was pack. Nothing happened. Stiles felt like he’d been punched, like he was back in the basement with Gerard Argent.

            “I’m sorry,” he mumbled at the door, unsure exactly what he was apologizing for. He stumbled back to the jeep slowly and waited inside it for a few more minutes but nothing changed. Finally he drove home.

            When Stiles got home his father was asleep on the couch, a half eaten plate of leftovers in front of him. Stiles had the sudden urge to wake him up to talked about everything but he knew he couldn’t; there were too many lies between them and too many secrets that weren’t his to tell. He sighed and retreated upstairs.

            Stiles sprawled out on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He tried to think about what he’d missed; he had been so sure he was pack now that Scott was. Humans could be pack, that much he was sure of. But not Stiles. He thought back to Peter offering him the bite. If he had taken it this wouldn’t be an issue, he would be pack. Or would he? Stiles began to wonder if he’d misconstrued his relationship with Derek because of his own feelings. Maybe the problem wasn’t that Stiles was human but that he was Stiles. If he’d been a wolf when Peter died would Derek have abandoned him and relegated him to omega status forever?

            Stiles got up and began pacing, nervous energy humming through his bones. He tried to think of something to do. He texted Scott, ‘ _Call when u r done_ ’. He remembered the rings in his pocket. He wasn’t about to go back to the Hale house to return them so he removed the strings from both Derek’s and his mother’s rings and placed them safely in his desk. He paced a little more in hopes that Scott would call back quickly. He sat down to do some research. He barely paid any attention to the articles he pulled up. He went downstairs to make dinner. He made small talk with his dad before his next shift, found out they’d found the dead incubus and had no leads. Scott didn’t call. At ten Stiles dialed his number but he didn’t answer. Stiles went to bed and didn’t sleep.

            The next day he tried calling Scott again with the same results. He tried texting again.

            ‘ _U ok?_ ’ For a while he got no response. When his phone finally went off Stiles’ heart sank.

            ‘ _Im fine. We cant b friends nemore._ ’

            ‘ _Y?_ ’ Stiles sent back. He waited but got no response. ‘ _Bcuz I’m not pack?_ ’ Stiles asked. Again, there was no response. In anger and frustration Stiles fired off a text to Derek, ‘ _Fuck u_ ’.

            After that summer started to really suck. Stiles made a few more desperate attempts to talk with Scott and one more painful attempt to talk to Derek. No one in the pack would talk to him. This presented a problem since Stiles only knew two non-werewolves: Lydia and Allison. Lydia was still marginally affiliated with the pack and while she would at least answer the phone she mostly wouldn’t talk to him either. He thought about hanging out with Allison since she was no longer dating Scott and therefore completely non-pack, but the ease with which she had become Gerard’s puppet made it difficult for Stiles to separate her from what he had done. Additionally, Stiles believed as strongly as Scott that it was just a matter of time before they were a couple again and he wasn’t sure if their eventual reunion would mean he and Scott were friends again or that he and Allison weren’t. The way things were going he’d put money on the latter.

            So at the beginning of July when Stiles’ birthday rolled around he was feeling more than a little depressed. He had a meager celebration in the afternoon with his dad before the Sheriff headed off to work. He hesitated a moment once his dad had left before caving and texting Scott.

            ‘ _Hang w/ me 2nite_ ’ He wasn’t surprised to get no response. ‘ _Its my bday man, cmon!_ ’ He stared at his phone and was surprise when a reply popped up.

            ‘ _Sry_ ’ was all it said. Stiles looked around the room in exasperation. His eyes settled on the liquor cabinet and he moved over to it. He sighed as he pulled out the bottle of Jack.

            “When your best friend gets dumped, you get your best friend drunk.”

            Stiles knew driving out to the wildlife preserve to drink was stupid. He wouldn’t have any way to get home safely and even in times of relative calm Beacon Hills wasn’t a good place to be out alone at night. He went anyway, telling himself that it was the least likely place for his father to catch him. If he was honest he was hoping Derek would show up to yell at him so he could initiate their long overdue talk. Stiles had settled in against a well-formed boulder and had just taken his first drink from the bottle when he was startled.

            “You shouldn’t drink that,” came a voice from behind him. He turned with a scattering of limbs. The voice belonged to a girl who was now perched on top of the boulder, although Stiles was sure she hadn’t been there before. She had long wavy auburn hair and friendly green eyes. She looked about Stiles’ age but he didn’t recognize her.

            “When did you get there?” Stiles asked more to himself than to her.

            “Just now. You shouldn’t drink that, it won’t make you feel better,” she replied.

            “Who says I’m feeling bad?” Stiles asked defensively. There was something slightly off about this girl but he couldn’t quite figure out what.

            “Jack Daniels,” she answered, looking pointedly at the bottle.

            “Maybe I’m just a party kind of guy; I don’t have to be drowning my sorrows.” She seemed to consider this.

            “What kind of party then, what are we celebrating?” she asked casually. Stiles tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered at the word ‘we’; he wasn’t that desperate for a friend, he wasn’t.

            “My birthday. I’m seventeen,” he answered, beginning to warm to the conversation.

            “Well happy birthday,” she smiled. Stiles smiled back.

            “Thanks. I’m Stiles, by the way,” he said, offering his hand. She took it warmly.

            “Cerridwen, or just Wen, if you prefer.”

            “Wen,” Stiles repeated, testing the name out on his lips. “You go to Beacon Hills High?”

            “Not yet. I just moved here about a week ago. I’ll be attending in the fall.” Stiles smiled and they fell into companionable chatter. He told her all about Beacon Hills (minus the murdery bits) and what the high school was like and about lacrosse. Occasionally he would mention someone in the pack, falter, and move on quickly. Wen obviously noticed but didn’t ask, which made Stiles appreciate her. They exchanged numbers and went their separate ways. Stiles drove home feeling pretty good but it didn’t stop him from texting Scott.

            ‘ _Found new bf, have fun chasing ur tail_ ’, to which Scott didn’t reply.

            Stiles and Wen became fast friends. They spent most of the summer chatting online and hanging out. Sheriff Stilinski kept asking Stiles if they were dating but Stiles honestly didn’t have any romantic feelings toward Wen. Besides, no matter how good of friends they were Stiles couldn’t shake the feeling there was something different about her. At least she wasn’t a werewolf.

            Stiles was feeling pretty good about life by the end of summer, even if he didn’t have a pack and Scott had abandoned him, at least he wasn’t alone. His good mood ended, however, when school started back up. He ended up only having one class with Wen but a whole bunch with Scott and Allison. Scott and Allison who were obviously back together. Allison who was a human and a hunter but apparently was still more acceptable as pack/friends than Stiles. Stiles who had always tried to help the wolves and had never actively tried to kill any of them other than Peter during his psycho phase. Stiles was hurt and angry and more than a little jealous.

            ‘ _Getting drunk 2nite, u coming?_ ’ Stiles texted Wen one night when his dad was working and his feeling had reached a crescendo. The final straw might have been running into Derek at the gas station and being completely ignored.

            ‘ _Pick me up._ ’ Wen texted back.

            Stiles was drunk. Wen hadn’t had so much as a sip.

            “It’s not my fault I’m human,” Stiles mumbled. “Well it is sorta... But who cares? Some of us are human.” He glanced at Wen who was smiling at him, bemused. “I mean you’re not, I don’t think. Are you?” She looked surprised but not as much as she should have. “What are you though? You’re not a werewolf are you, ‘cause that would suck?”

            “Do you know a lot of werewolves?” Wen asked casually. Stiles made a dismissive noise and took another drink.

            “I know a whole pack of them. Scott, you know Scott, he used to be my best friend. He got bitten by Peter, who used to be evil but now is just sassy. Death really worked for Peter. Maybe Derek should come back from the dead too. Maybe then he’d mellow out and like me more,” Stiles blabbered drunkenly.

            “Who’s Derek?”

            “Derek is my alpha.” Stiles snickered. “Well not my alpha.”

“Why not your alpha? Can’t humans be pack too?” Wen asked. There was something beginning to bother Stiles that he couldn’t quite grasp.

“Yeah but… I don’t know the rules. I thought I was pack but like, Derek said I’m not and now no one will talk to me. Allison is pack and so’s Lydia. But not Stiiiles,” Stiles whined.

“Why not Stiles? There must be a reason.” Stiles took a long drink, looking puzzled as he thought about it.

“Because Stiles likes Derek,” he said with a snort. “I can’t help it though. He’s all broody and dark but he’s got this face and this chest.” Stiles let out a low groan. “And it’s not like it’s new or he didn’t already know or something. He’s a werewolf, he can smell things.” Stiles waggled his eyebrows as if to impress upon her the magnitude of things Derek could smell.

“So what changed?” Wen prompted. Stiles sighed.

“We had naughty incubus sexy times.” She stared at him, her silence willing him to continue. “I guess having a gay crush on the alpha is like Fight Club, you don’t talk about it. And I talked about it. I just kept begging and I wouldn’t take no for an answer. I’m not _that guy_ but I was all incubus induced hormones and things just happened. Maybe things are just too awkward when you’ve mutually raped each other.” Again Stiles had the feeling that something was wrong without knowing what.

“Have you talked to him about it?” Stiles shook his head.

“Can’t. He won’t talk to me, none of the wolves will.” Stiles went to take another drink but paused with his lips on the bottle. He sat up abruptly and looked at Wen in horror as he finally realized what was wrong. “Oh my god! You didn’t hear any of that!”

            “Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” she replied soothingly. Stiles relaxed a little, sinking lower against the rock outcropping. He set the bottle to the side.

            “You didn’t answer my question,” he said lazily.

            “Oh?” Wen asked.

            “What are you?”

            “What makes you so sure I’m not human?”

            “I dunno, I just know. Like how I knew Matt was evil even when I didn’t know. I just knew it. Nobody believed me but I knew. And I know now too, you’re not human.” Wen smiled at him and Stiles thought it was more predatory than usual.

            “Well you’re right, in a way. I’m a witch.” She moved closer to Stiles. “And I want to help you Stiles, so right now you need to sleep.” Wen kissed him gently on the forehead and he did exactly what she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sure someone will complain about Stiles’ birthday. The only date I could find anywhere for his birthday was on Teen Wolf: The Hunt, which puts it in April. However The Hunt also says Lydia and Allison’s birthdays are at most a few days apart, which pretty strongly conflicts with canon. Therefore I decided to ignore the date given for Stiles’ birthday in order to suit the story better.


	3. Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ceridwen traps Derek and Stiles in a spell. Stiles tells the truth.

            “Stiles!” someone shouted, pulling him out of his sleep. “Stiles!” It sounded like Derek. Stiles lazily opened his eyes. It was Derek, a very angry Derek. “What did you do?” Derek accused roughly.

            Stiles took stock of the situation. They seemed to be in a cave which meant somewhere in the woods. Pretty far away from both the town and the Hale house if Stiles had to guess. Derek was bound, kneeling, in front of him with glowing white chains. A little wiggling and a quick glance told Stiles he was similarly bound. There was a figure eight of black powder encircling them both, crossing in the space between them. Stiles grimaced.

            “I might have accidentally made friends with a witch, gotten extremely drunk, and mentioned something about you and the pack.”

            “Are you kidding me?” Derek hissed.

          “Yeah, totally joking. This is actually an elaborate setup to get you to talk to me. What do you think asshole?” Stiles replied sarcastically.

            “Actually Stiles, that isn’t too far from the truth,” Wen said, coming into view. Derek snarled at her, all wolfy features.

            “Hey Wen. I uh… appreciate the effort here, but maybe you could let us go now?” She crouched down between them on the other side of the figure eight.

            “You’re pack is sick Derek, I’m going to help you fix it.” He growled in response.

            “You really shouldn’t piss him off Wen, he’s not as cuddly as he looks,” Stiles said. Derek glared at him, Wen smiled.

            “Each of the links in the chains binding you represents a secret. It isn’t good to keep so much locked away inside, especially since your secrets hurt people.”

            “Wen, please. I thought we were friends, why are you doing this?” Stiles pleaded. He was beginning to see where this was going and he didn’t like it.

            “I am your friend Stiles, which is why we’re going to play a game. I’m going to start asking questions to help reveal your secrets. For every secret you tell, one link will disappear. However, if you lie there will be pain, not for you but for your partner. The game ends when you are free of your chains or you die. You are allowed to pass on any question with neither punishment nor reward, but if you ever want to get free you’ll have to reveal everything. Shall we begin?”

            “We’re not playing your game,” Derek spat.

            “Then you’ll be in your chains forever.”

            “Right, so… question one?” Stiles prompted. Derek glared at him again but shifted back to normal so Stiles figured he was willing to play along.

            “I’ll start you off easy, although none of this will be easy for either of you. Stiles, what is your name?” Stiles sighed.

            “Genim, after my grandfather. I go by Stiles because it’s a weird name but also… also because my mom named me and it feels like our secret, a small connection between the two of us. Even Scott doesn’t know.”

            “See, it’s not so hard. Now Derek, why didn’t you let Scott kill Peter and be cured?”

            “I needed to take revenge for what he did to Laura,” Derek ground out. Stiles felt a sharp pain shoot though him and he cried out. Derek’s jaw tightened and he breathed angrily but he didn’t look at Stiles.

            “That isn’t very nice Derek. Is it so hard to admit something so simple?” Wen asked tauntingly. Derek didn’t respond. “What are you afraid of?”

            “I’m not afraid of anything. But you should be.” Again the pain coursed though Stiles’ body, this time he managed to keep his cry down to a pained groan.

            “Stiles?” Wen asked.

            “Bees,” he answered when the pain had settled. He might have been a little spiteful; Derek winced.

            “What is your greatest regret?” Wen continued.

            “I’m really starting to regret our friendship,” Stiles quipped. Derek didn’t show any sign of pain so Stiles assumed that counted as passing on the question. Derek also didn’t answer. After a moment Wen moved on.

            “Who do you hate more than anyone else?”

            “Myself,” Stiles said evenly. Derek looked at him, trying to read his expression. Wen made a small movement of her head to prompt a response from the werewolf; he glared at her and remained silent once more.

            “What do you fear?” she asked again. Derek growled at her and Stiles sighed.

            “Everything,” Stiles answered. “I’m scared all the time. I was before all of this werewolf crap. But now it’s worse. Like now I know there’s some really scary shit out there and I don’t stand a chance against it. I keep waiting for something to break; maybe it already has, maybe _I_ have.” Stiles didn’t look at Derek; he didn’t want to know what he thought of that answer.

            “What is your greatest regret?” Wen pressed on.

            “I’m not answering any more of your questions!” Derek yelled stubbornly.

            “Stiles, what’s yours?” Wen asked, ignoring Derek.

            “Hah, right. How do you even pick one? I have a million regrets. I can’t… I don’t know. I regret lying to my dad all the friggin’ time. I regret not telling my mom I loved her enough. Maybe that’s stupid, I mean how can you ever say it enough? It’s really stupid, but I still…”

            “I know,” Derek said, cutting him off. “I understand.” Stiles nodded because he knew Derek really did understand.

            “But it’s not just that, you know, I regret causing her trouble. Even when she was already sick and she didn’t have the energy to deal with me, I was still such a handful. Sometimes I think maybe I killed her,” he let out a deep breath. “I… that’s it. I mean that’s not it, there’s another one, a big one. But I don’t think I’m ready to deal with that yet. Next question please.” Derek looked lost in thought and Stiles wondered how many bad memories he was struggling with in that moment.

            “Derek, who do you hate more than anyone else?”

            “Wen just…” Stiles started.

           “The Argents,” Derek replied distractedly. Stiles fought with everything he had to ride out the pain in silence.

            “Have you ever been in love?” Wen asked.

            “Holy god, do you have no pity?” Stiles asked sardonically.

            “Have you?” Stiles sighed in exasperation.

            “Yes! I’ve been in love with Lydia since the third grade. Except… with everything that happened between her and Jackson… I mean she loves him, really loves him, and he loves her too. I can’t get in the middle of that and I wouldn’t want to. So I guess I don’t really feel that way anymore. I still respect Lydia but… I don’t want to be with her. I guess I haven’t really since… well, for a while now.” He took several breaths, trying to steel himself for the rest but the words were sticking in his throat.

            “Derek?”

            “No,” Derek snarled. The pain tore through Stiles more viciously than before and he couldn’t stop the agonized cry from escaping his lips. He panted heavily, wincing. He wasn’t sure how many more lies he could take and Derek’s chain hadn’t lost any links.

            “Why don’t we take a break before Derek kills you?” Wen said quietly. She wandered out though the mouth of the cave.

            “Are you okay?” Derek asked when they were alone.

            “Not really. Do you think you could stop lying so much, I’m not really keen on dying here. I mean I guess it’d be good for you right? I die, there’s no one to confess to, and you go free,” Stiles aimed for flippant. There was a pause in which Derek wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Do you want me to die?” Stiles asked seriously. Derek’s head whipped up and his lips parted, ready to respond. “No! Don’t… don’t answer that. Just give me a minute to recover,” Stiles said quickly, ducking his head to avoid looking at Derek. He was grateful when Derek remained silent. He took several steadying breaths. After a few minutes he was ready to continue. Stiles closed his eyes briefly before leveling his gaze at Derek.

            “Why don’t you want me in the pack?” he asked evenly.

            “Because you’re useless,” Derek replied. Stiles tried and failed to contain his outcry as the pain wracked his body. He let out a few laughing breaths.

            “I’m not sure how to feel about that one; I’ll have to get back to you.” They were silent again. Stiles looked around for Wen, she was nowhere in sight.

            “I don’t,” Derek started, obviously fighting every word.

            “Derek wait. I’ve… I’ve got an idea.”

            “Stiles whatever you’re thinking, it won’t work. You have no idea what witches are capable of.”

            “You know when I wasn’t hanging out with one all summer I memorized the bestiary. There was a pretty extensive section on witches and then I did outside research. I actually have a pretty good idea what they can do.” Derek’s doubting expression didn’t falter.

            “You’re never going to trust me, are you?” Stiles asked wearily. “I trust you. With my life. I _did_ trust you with my life. At the club I… I lured the incubus out on purpose.” Derek growled low in his throat. “I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt and I’m not much use against a demonic sex monster anyway so I figured I could be bait. I knew you wouldn’t let it kill me. I’m sorry for what happened though; I forced myself on you and that’s not okay. I never would have done anything like that on my own but, well incubus,” Stiles shrugged. “And it wasn’t easy on me either, you know. It was my first time doing any of that and that wasn’t the way…” Stiles stumbled over what he wanted to say.

            “Stiles…” Derek began.

            “No just… just shut up and let me talk.” He took a deep breath. “Look the whole situation was just all bad. But the worst part was when I woke up and you were gone, and then you wouldn’t talk to me when I went to your house. I needed things to be okay between us, to make them okay, but they weren’t. And then you said I’m not pack and you made the others ignore me. I know you must have made them because Scott wouldn’t…

            “Except sometimes I think it was just bad timing. Maybe you were only putting up with me for the incubus thing and since that was done there was no reason to talk to me. Scott’s been my friend forever but things have been a little one-sided lately and now he’s got the pack so maybe he doesn’t need me anymore. Maybe no one needs me and I just go around annoying everyone.

            “Peter offered me the bite.” Derek’s head shot up and his red eyes looked murderous. Stiles began examining his knees. “Before we killed him. I turned him down because I wasn’t ready. I’m still not, might never be. Part of me wants it though. If I’d known how everything would turn out, with me alone outside the pack, I would have let him. Either I’d be dead and it wouldn’t matter or I’d be part of the pack. Or I’d at least be a wolf and I could try to prove myself to you.

            “I want to be pack, Derek. Not because of Scott or because I want to belong. I want it because your pack is the only thing that really matters to you and I want to matter to you too. It isn’t just physical, the way I feel about you. You are, like, the sexiest person I’ve ever met, but you’re so much more than that. You care about people and you try to do what’s right, even if sometimes you’re an idiot about it. You’re strong, emotionally. You’ve been through so much crap and you’ve let it get to you sure, but you haven’t let it break you. That’s amazing Derek, you’re amazing.” Stiles sighed a deep sigh of defeat.

            “I love you.” The last link vanished and Stiles’ arms were free. He brought them in front of him and held them out to show Derek, relief pouring off his every feature. Stiles let out a cry of triumph.

            “It worked! Now I can get us out of here.” Stiles moved closer to the line of powder. He tried to wipe it away but he still couldn’t touch it. Derek looked pissed.

            “Stiles!”

            “Calm down, I know what I’m doing.”

            “Then break the spell!” Derek growled, glancing toward the mouth of the cave where Wen had yet to return.

            “Here’s the thing, this powder is the second part to a two layer binding spell. It’s what made _me_ hurt when _you_ lied. The figure eight, or rather the infinity symbol, binds us together.”

            “How do you break it?”

            “It’s weakest at the middle where it crosses over itself. Since we’re bound to each other we should just barely be able to cross there, thus breaking the overall barrier. Once the rest of the spell is broken your chains should disappear.”

            “Hurry up Stiles,” Derek ordered impatiently.

            “It can’t just be any part that crosses though. The spell is binding our words so uh… really it’s our _mouths_ that have to cross.” Stiles cringed.

            “Just break it!” Derek barked.

            “Fine, I will. Just… lean forward as far as you can.” Derek strained against his chains and leaned forward. Stiles crept toward him and did the same. There was a brief pause where their faces were an inch apart, the cross of the figure eight on the ground between them, then their lips met. The spell shattered and Stiles pulled away sharply. Derek was already shifted when Stiles looked at him.

            “Oh my god, don’t kill me!” Stiles shouted, flailing backward. Derek gave him a sharp look before scenting the air and running out of the cave to hunt Wen. “All right you go ahead, I’ll… probably never see you again because my horrible witch friend ruined any chance of ever gaining your respect,” Stiles called after him.

            It took stiles hours to get home. Once there he was greeted by a very angry Sheriff.

            “Where have you been?” he demanded.

            “Uh…” Stiles said. It didn’t improve his father’s mood.

            “I’ve been calling you all day Stiles, where’s your phone?” Stiles pulled it from his pocket; the battery was dead.

            “Sorry Dad, I didn’t realize. I spent the night at Wen’s.”

            “You spent the night with a girl?” the Sheriff asked. Stiles tried to ignore the hint of incredulity in his tone.

            “It’s not like that and I swear there was an adult present at all times. We braided each other’s hair, went for a walk, played truth or dare, normal platonic teen stuff. I should have called, I’m sorry,” Stiles placated.

            “You’re grounded,” his dad said firmly.

            “Right,” Stiles replied, and headed up to his room.


	4. You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek keeps an eye out for the witch. Stiles takes care of the pack from a distance. Derek tells the truth.

            Derek lost the witch’s scent at the edge of the woods. He spent twenty minutes trying to pick it up again before giving up and heading home. Peter appeared from deeper in the house when he heard the vicious slam of the door. He raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

            “Something wrong?” he asked, as if the answer wasn’t evident.

            “There’s a witch in Beacon Hills,” Derek told him aggressively.

            “Oh,” Peter replied nonchalantly. He turned to go back to whatever he had been doing.

            “You offered Stiles the bite,” Derek growled. He hadn’t meant to say it, he’d meant to keep the conversation focused on the witch, but seeing Peter had brought that new piece of information to the forefront of his mind.

            “You know Derek, it sends a mixed message when you tell us to ignore Stiles and then wander off in the woods with him to discuss lycanthropy. Does this mean we’re all friends again?” Derek’s eyes flashed red in warning. Peter gave him an exasperated look. “I did a lot of things before you killed me but I thought we agreed it was better for everyone if we didn’t dwell on that.”

            “Stiles, Peter! You were going to bite Stiles!” Derek snapped.

            “It seemed like a good idea at the time. He is, after all, the clever one. Not to mention having him in my pack would have helped smooth things over with Scott. It was all a question of strategy, nothing personal.”

            “He could have died,” Derek said angrily.

            “I’m aware of that, Derek, but at the time I didn’t really care. Unlike you I didn’t have a vested interest in keeping him alive. What does it even matter? He turned me down and set me on fire. It’s all blood under the floorboards,” Peter said dismissively. Derek narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything more and eventually his uncle wandered off.

            Derek felt too exhausted to try and deal with anything else that day, honestly he’d been too exhausted to deal with Peter. He’d somehow been captured that morning by a witch and then spent all afternoon drowning in self loathing. Hating himself wasn’t anything new, but it had been brought into sharper focus by the witch’s questions and the way Stiles cried out when he lied.

The whole point of keeping Stiles separate from the pack was to prevent him from ending up in these situations. Stiles was clever and loyal to a fault, if he had to sacrifice himself to save someone he cared about, he would do it without a second thought. The incubus was not the first time he’d intentionally put himself in danger. Derek had been so sure he would be safe without the pack that he was horrified to see him in that cave.

Derek hadn’t meant to hurt Stiles. But Derek _had_ hurt Stiles; had nearly killed him. Lying was one of Derek’s first defenses, it came naturally. He also couldn’t look weak in front of his enemy. So he had lied and continued to guard his secrets and Stiles had paid the price. And then Stiles had sacrificed himself again.

Derek was acutely aware of what Stiles’ confessions had cost him. He’d noticed every time Stiles hedged around an answer or flat out refused to give one. He’d also linked up the pieces of his final confession with the questions they answered. Stiles wasn’t quite as proud as Derek, but if the situation had been anything but life or death Derek knew he would have bit his tongue just as sharply.

Derek collapsed onto the mattress he used for a bed. He wanted to sleep, hoping his head would be clearer in the morning. Instead he tossed and turned all night, unable to get Stiles’ words out of his head. By the morning he felt more mixed up and uncertain than ever. He called the pack together.

“There’s a witch in Beacon Hills,” he announced flatly when everyone was gathered at the house. Peter rolled his eyes.

“I don’t understand why you’re making a big deal of this. Witches aren’t usually trouble, they actually tend to focus on helping others,” Peter said.

”Yes, and this one was being very helpful when it tried to _kill Stiles_ ,” Derek replied sarcastically.

“What?” Isaac asked, surprised.

“Why would it go after Stiles?” Scott objected.

“I don’t know. Stiles said they were friends, maybe he offended her.”

“Leave it to Stilinski to piss off a witch,” Jackson said mockingly.

“You talked to Stiles?” Scott asked, wounded. At the same time Isaac responded,

“Stiles doesn’t have any friends.”

“It’s complicated,” Derek told Scott tightly. “He called her ‘Wen’.”

“She’s a witch?” Scott asked.

“You know her?” Peter asked, only mildly interested.

“She goes to school with us; Cerridwen Foel,” Isaac answered. Something in Peter’s expression shifted and Derek couldn’t quite read it.

“You know Derek I really don’t think you need to worry about this. I’m sure she’s long gone by now,” he said casually. Derek glared at him menacingly.

“I’m not going to take that chance. You and Isaac will take turns patrolling. I’ll keep an eye on Stiles in case she goes after him again. If any of you see her at school, you let me know. Witches are tricky, if we find her we take her as a pack,” Derek ordered. They all broke apart to complete their tasks.

Derek had been lurking in the shadows a good distance from the Stilinski residence for several hours when his phone buzzed with a text message.

‘ _Ur not as subtle as u think. Leaving sum puppy chow outside window 4 u_ ’ it was from Stiles. Derek rolled his eyes but had to admit he was hungry and if Stiles already knew he was there what was the harm? ‘Puppy chow’ turned out to be two turkey sandwiches. Derek settled down to eat them in the shadows of the roof. He was just starting on the second when Stiles’ head popped out the window to look for him.

“As much as I enjoy making you stand out in the cold, you’re really wasting your time. Wen’s already been and gone,” Stiles said wearily.

“What?” Derek snapped in alarm.

“She popped in shortly after I got home to apologize. It sounded pretty much like a goodbye so I don’t think you’ll find her anywhere near me again.” Stiles watched him for several minutes, a discerning look on his face. It made Derek uncomfortable but he didn’t let it show. Eventually Stiles sighed. “Anyway, I thought I should let you know. I’ll leave you to it, enjoy the sandwiches.” He disappeared back into his bedroom, closing the window behind him.

Derek considered for a moment. If the witch had already returned to Stiles without hurting him she probably wasn’t going to. Most likely Stiles and Peter were right and she wasn’t a threat anymore. Still, witches were tricky, Derek told himself. He stayed outside the window. He waited for Stiles to go to bed. It took longer than Derek expected. When Stiles finally did settle in under his comforter he mumbled quietly, “Good night Derek.” Derek left when he’d fallen asleep.

Derek didn’t go back to keep an eye on Stiles. Instead he took turns patrolling. He kept the pack on lookout for the witch for two weeks. There was no sign of her. There were signs of Stiles, however.

It surprised Derek when Scott let it slip that Stiles had left notes in his locker, actual notes for classes Scott was struggling with. They apparently were printed out and gave no indication of the source but Scott knew they were from Stiles because no one else could have tailored them so perfectly to his thought process.

Next it was Jackson. He still had issues with control because of his aggressive personality. Something happened at lacrosse practice a little too close to the full moon and he’d only avoided discovery and awkward questions because Stiles had subtly launched a massive distraction.

Around October Peter had come home from a coffee date with Mrs. McCall and informed Derek that Stiles was meddling. After his not calling Melissa for several months she hadn’t been willing to speak to Peter. It had made Scott happy but Peter had moped quite a bit and lamented loudly about how difficult being dead was to explain. They’d all been surprised when Melissa called to invite him out. Apparently Stiles had dropped subtle hints while warming the bench at lacrosse games and managed to explain away Peter’s neglect enough to soften her opinion of him.

In November the biggest turkey anyone in the pack had ever seen was delivered to the renovated Hale house. In December a large stack of presents appeared piled neatly under a tree. When the pack opened them they were all practical, well thought out gifts. On New Year’s Day Derek got a letter in the mail. The return address said ‘Stilinski’.

_Dear Derek,_

_Erica called me the other day. I guess she wasn’t sure if you’d want to hear from her so she called me instead. I thought you’d like to know though. She and Boyd apparently found a pack in Montana. Montana! Crazy huh? She says they’re doing well. She also said if I thought you wouldn’t flip out I should tell you they’re both sorry. They didn’t mean for things to turn out like they did. They hope there’s no bad blood between you. I know there’s still a Stiles embargo on your pack but if you promise to be nice you can text me to get her number. (Mine’s 555-0127 in case you deleted it from your phone.)_

_~~Yours, Love, Sincerely, From,~~ _

_-Stiles_

Derek huffed at the signature. He could picture Stiles writing each closing remark with increasing frustration. The last one was so thoroughly crossed out that Derek had to struggle for several minutes to make it out.

            ‘Still not pack,’

            Derek felt a pain in his chest. He realized suddenly how stupid he had been. Because Stiles was pack. Stiles would always be pack. Stiles who helped train Scott. Stiles who rode in to save the day against Peter. Stiles who protected Isaac. Stiles who kept Derek from drowning. Stiles who brought Lydia to save Jackson. Stiles who lured out the incubus. Stiles who put the pack before himself even when the pack abandoned him. Stiles who was clever and loyal and fearless and _strong_. Stiles.

            Derek sighed and tossed the letter onto the table. He drove to Stiles’ house. The Sheriff was home and Derek hesitated. He took a rallying breath and got out of the car. He knocked firmly on the front door. The Sheriff opened it, a steady, unsurprised look on his face.

            “Hale,” he said flatly.

            “Sheriff,” Derek replied.

            “Something I can do for you?”

            “I’d like a word with your son,” Derek said calmly. The Sheriff gave him an appraising look and Derek thought he might deny him.

            “I don’t know how Stiles and his friends got tangled up with you, but he’s been pretty miserable since he wound up untangled, so if you’re not here to set things right you’d better go,” Sheriff Stilinski warned. Derek stared him down without comment. After a moment the Sheriff stepped back and gestured for Derek to enter. “He’s in his room. Upstairs on the left.” Derek nodded and went upstairs.

            Stiles didn’t notice when Derek stepped quietly into the bedroom. He was thoroughly engrossed in the work he was doing on his computer. Derek examined the screen. Stiles was carefully compiling the results of his research into his own bestiary, complete with pictures.

            “Djinn don’t actually look like that,” Derek said calmly. Stiles jumped a bit, flailed, and slammed the laptop shut. He looked at Derek guiltily.

            “It’s a placeholder; I want to get the formatting right. I was going to send you a copy when I finished,” Stiles explained.

            “Still trying to be part of the pack,” Derek mused. Stiles looked down somberly.

            “No. I get that I’ll never be… But you can’t stop me from trying to help,” he said quietly. Then he looked up at Derek sharply, the biting, angry look he so rarely showed anyone firmly in place. “Since you’re not my alpha.” They considered each other for a few minutes before Stiles sighed and the sharp look melted away. “Is there something you wanted?” he asked uncertainly.

            “Yes,” Derek replied without elaboration. Stiles waited a moment before giving him an exasperated ‘well?’ look. Derek sighed. He knew what he’d come to do but that didn’t make it any easier.

            “You’re pack,” he said instead.

            “What?” Stiles asked in disbelief.

            “You’re part of the pack,” Derek replied.

            “But you said…”

            “I lied.”

            “If I’m… then what’s with the six month freeze out? I mean nobody will talk to me. Literally no one,” Stiles asked in frustration.

            “I thought I was protecting you,” Derek snapped out.

            “Protecting…?” Stiles took a moment to let that sink in and then he was on his feet, rounding on Derek like a wild animal. “Oh no, you don’t get to cordon me off like some fragile display! I don’t need you or anyone else to protect me, Derek; I’m not some damsel in distress!”

            “I know that Stiles!” Derek yelled back. There was a tense moment between them. “You’re always putting yourself in danger. I don’t want you to get killed.”

            “Then don’t let me! God, Derek, it isn’t like I put myself in danger without a plan. I always know you or Scott or someone will be there when I need you. That’s… that’s the whole point of having a pack, isn’t it?” Derek stared at him again, realizing for the first time just how much Stiles understood. They were standing very close, hardly an inch between them. Stiles seemed to realize all at once and stumbled backward with his usual flurry of motion.

            “Uh…” Stiles sputtered. “About the things I said… with the spell… I promise it won’t be a thing. I mean I won’t …”

            “I’m afraid of being alone,” Derek said, cutting him off. This was why he’d come, to tell Stiles everything, to break his chains.

            “What?” was Stiles’ reply.

            “My worst fear. That’s why I didn’t let Scott kill Peter; I didn’t want to be alone. I thought if Scott was still a wolf he would have to be part of my pack. I needed that security.” Stiles was looking at Derek in utter shock, mouth agape. He sat down in his desk chair absently. Derek took a deep breath, bracing himself. “When I was in high school I thought I was in love with someone.” He closed his eyes against the memory. “With Kate,” he said reluctantly.

            “Kate,” Stiles repeated. His eyes went wide with shock and realization. “Psycho Kate? Kate Argent?” Derek looked at him uncomfortably. “Oh. Oh wow. Are you… Huh.” Stiles leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands folded in front of his lips.

           “She was using me. She manipulated me into telling her things about my family. I played right into her hands. It was my fault, Stiles!” Stiles was on his feet in an instant, arms wrapping around Derek, embracing him tightly. Derek collapsed into the hug, shaking slightly with silent tears. They stood like that until Derek was able to regain some semblance of composure.

            Derek still had one more link, one final confession, but he didn’t know how to say it, how to make the words leave his lips. Instead he turned his head into Stiles’ neck and began kissing the warm skin. Stiles froze at the unexpected sensation.

            “Derek?” he asked uncertainly.

            “Stiles,” Derek sighed against his neck, hardly relenting. Stiles pushed him away firmly.

            “Derek I don’t…” he was saying. He stopped short when he saw the expression on Derek’s face, unguarded and filled with emotion. Stiles swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay,” he said quietly. He let Derek lean forward again and they kissed. It was slow and warm and filled with need. Afterward Derek stepped back, the blank, guarded look back on his face.

            “I need to get back,” he said a little softer than usual. Stiles nodded at him.

            “Right. But I should come by sometime? Maybe tomorrow?” Derek nodded, not entirely certain of what he might say if he tried to answer. He turned to leave. “Derek wait,” Stiles said, his hand reaching out to grab Derek’s shoulder. He let go as Derek turned back to face him. Stiles fidgeted slightly. “I just remembered.” He leapt back to his desk, pulling something out of the top drawer. “I should have given these back to you a while ago, sorry.” He held his hand out, palm up, dislplaying the objects. He was holding their mothers’ rings.

            Derek considered the rings. The settings were angled toward each other conspiratorially, their stones glinting brightly in the sunlight. He imagined his mother sitting with Mrs. Stilinski, both of them laughing as their sons danced around their feelings for each other. Derek reached out and took Mrs. Stilinski’s rings. Stiles looked up at Derek in confusion when he saw what he’d done.

            “Keep them safe,” Derek told him in answer. Stiles’ fingers immediately closed around the rings.

            “I’ll guard them with my life,” Stiles replied with a smile and a hint of sarcasm.

**Author's Note:**

> Several people have indicated a desire for another chapter in which Stiles rejoins with the pack. I would love to write this but I have 3 major problems:  
> 1) I don't have enough idea for story to carry another chapter  
> 2) There is a theme to this story which is it's title(s).   
>  Under the Influence of Hormones - While affected by the incubus Stiles and Derek do things which launch the story.  
>  Under the Influence of Alcohol - Stiles meets Wen while drinking and then tells her about the pack when drunk.  
>  Under the Influence of Magic - Stiles and Derek deal with the spell.  
>  Under the Influence of You - Derek deals with Stiles insistence on helping the pack and his own feelings for him.  
> Chapter 5 has to follow this pattern and I don't know how to make it work.  
> 3) I feel like the chapter would be best told from Peter's perspective but I don't know that I'm comfortable enough to write that.
> 
> If you have any suggestions that might help me with any of these problems, feel free to comment or send me a message and we'll see if it's fruitful.


End file.
